Bill Offler Goes Feral
by Belkassem
Summary: Join former mime Bill Offler in this new series of documentaries portraying citizens of Ankh-Morpork in their natural habitat!
1. A Day in the Life of CMOT Dibbler

Can I just say, this wasn't my idea. Well, here goes, WAIT! disclaimer, I don't own Discworld, and all likenesses to real people are entirely co-incidental.****

****

**The Highly Interesting Day In The Life of Cut-My-Own-Throat Dibbler**

"Welcome to this weeks documentary on Crystal-Time, bringing the world to you, you lazy lard-ass! This week, we will follow top Ankh-Morpork businessman, CMOT Dibbler, as he bamboozles more and more people into buying his-" the presenter cuts out. A short pause ensues. Then, he resumes his monologue, "-his, er," he looks beseechingly at the script, as if to make it change, "-_top_-quality goods! Over to you, Bill!"

The camera view dissolves into a picture of downtown Ankh-Morpork, so named because it is lower down and therefore less desirable - the smell is worse - and the unmistakable features of Bill Offler slide into view.

"Thank you, Basil" cries Bill Offler, from off-screen. Once a big comedian on the "Punch and Judy" side of entertainment, he has since gone downhill and is now reduced to appearing on "documentaries" like this to scratch out a living. He has long since decided that life could not get any worse.

"Well, here I am in this _thriving_ area of town, which is the _natural habitat_ of this fabulous creature! I've been observing his routine for some days now and, sure enough, he'll soon venture down this alleyway!" A long, meaningful pause, during which, Dibbler appeared at another alleyway, sees Offler, blanches, and tries to escape.

"AH! There he is! Well, viewers, soon we will be able to appreciate his true style. Now, I think we'll get a close-up," he looks off-screen, "can we? Good," he follows Dibbler down the alley, shouting "Mr. Dibbler! Mr. Dibbler!"

Eventually he buttonholes the flustered businessman.

"Dibbler! Is it alright if we, er, follow you around today? We're doing a documentary. We wrote to you about it. Remember?"

"Oh. You're _those_ people. I thought you were, err, someone else. Well, sure. Just, just, don't get in my way."

"Excellent!"

The view changes. Dibbler is in the middle of Sator Square, hawking his wares mercilessly. Some unsuspecting passers-by look interested. He also keeps looking nervously toward the camera and Bill Offler, who is, as ever, looking horrifyingly enthusiastic. Bill starts his monologue.

"Well, as you can see, in his natural environment, Dibbler is truly phenomenal, look how he attracts others with his wonderfully attractive ma-er-calls."

He saves himself from saying something truly terrible, realizing that, as he was a mime no longer, he couldn't make snide remarks about pheromones and sausages without people noticing. Some of the aforementioned passers-by have approached Dibbler and are looking over his 'wares',

"See how he concentrates on those he already has interested, but all the while keeps up his enticements to those who are not! Truly amazing..."

Dibbler begins a conversation with the two potential customers, presumably over prices. One of them looks slightly bemused, the other concerned. Clearly he has heard of Dibbler before, but it is now too late. He is trapped in Dibbler's sell-spell.

"Amazing..." he shakes his head, "This is something you won't see every day. It looks, YES! He's just made a sale, and yes they all look happy. I didn't hear the price-" one of his crew says something to him "-but I've just been informed that he made a half-dollar profit on each 'sausage-in-bun', which means he was paid by the butcher to take them. Truly fascinating..."

The view again cuts to the inside of some dark shed

"Well, this is where we will have to leave Mr. Dibbler, now, for he is going to do his freelance advertising work for Mr de Worde, who refused to allow us into _The Times'_ printing office, but I can cheerfully announce that so far today he has made AM $6.82 from his work, and left behind a total of 17 un-satisfied custo-"

A large troll, wearing a rough approximation of a suit, had just tapped Bill on the back. By tapped, I mean slammed; Bill buckled under the force of the blow. ,

"'Ere," he said, "you know where I could find Dibbler, only I've got some business with 'im"

7 more suit-wearing trolls appeared behind the first one

"Er, of course. He's just in there" said Bill, pointing at the rough shed behind him.

"Thank. You got Chrysophrase grat...gratig...thanks" said Chrysophrase, as he and his trolls headed for, and through, the building walls.

END OF MINISTORY

a/n: you like? tell me. I may do some more 'Bill Offler' documentaries. They are fun to write.

And, any mistakes, this was done on wordpad, which has no checker, and my beta-reader isn't foolproof. Look at the monstrosity of a story she let get through last time!


	2. A Day in the Life of Foul Ole Ron

I can't believe I'm doing this, it must be the boredom. A chapter a day! shudders

**A Day-in-the-Life of Foul Ole Ron **

"Well, folks, today we've got a real treat for you. I understand that many people were annoyed that yesterday's documentary was cut off so soon due to technical problems, so we've decided to provide another, unscheduled, documentary. Today, Bill Offler is filming a day in the life of that most honoured member of Ankh-Morpork society, who everybody knows and-and-"

Basil chokes, and lifts the script up to the light, as if to check it is genuine. Then he sighs and continues, "everybody knows and-" (cough, splutter), "loves," he turns lobster coloured, then very quickly says, "The _amazing_ man known as Foul Ole Ron," he begins to rip up the script he has just read, "Over to you, Bill!"

The camera cuts to busy intersection near a bridge over the river, where Bill Offler is holding a frantic discussion with his crew. Several had wanted to leave, earlier, but they had all got pay rises. Now they were trying to convince Offler not to leave, for he had just realised his life has got worse, or at least his job has. Eventually, after several minutes of hurried arguments, Offler turns toward the camera. The rest of his crew hurries for their equipment.

"Well, I am sorry for those little technical hitches we had yesterday, and indeed for those we had today, which have just been fixed," Offler, very visibly, rolls his eyes as he half turns toward the river, "But, here we are, just next to the Short Street intersection with Quirm Road, and, or so I have been told, beneath that bridge over there," he gestures toward the bridge, "is the burrow of this particularly fascinating creature."

He strides to the embankment, and then down it. His eyes, what we can see of them, start watering. The view turns slightly green.

"Now, if we creep down here, we may get a chance to see Foul Ole Ron acting as he does away from the sight of the public. AH! there he is!"

The camera gets round the slimy knoll that, it seemed, acted as a boundary wall. A dog, several people and a campfire were there. The dog seemed the most important,

Offler resumes his lines, "And there, on the left, in that old coat, is Foul Ole Ron, see how he stands out even in this, distinguished, crowd. See how he keeps pride of fellow _Streetus Nuisancis_ under his firm control, remonstrating them whenever they speak out of turn; just listen to that!"

"I say, there appears to be a st-" begins one of them, who has a duck on his head, only to be interrupted by Foul Ole Ron,

"Bugrit!"

All the people (using the term loosely) around the fire, including the dog, are now looking at Bill Offler and his camera crew. They all stand up and attempt to look threatening (apart from Arnold Sideways; he merely attempted to look threatening), and then the Duck Man approaches them and says

"Who the devil are you, then?"

"We a-"

"I don't think they're _any_one. I thinks those boots we got last night were off!" coughs another one of them, known, appropriately enough, as Coffin' Henry. Then he hawks, and spits into the fire, all the while glaring at Arnold Sideways, who had obviously purloined the boots.

"Ahem! We _are _people. I am Bill Offler and I am doing a documentary on you, specifically, on Foul Ole Ron. Now, just act like we weren't here!"

Unfortunately for Bill, they don't seem to want to do that. They all act most interested in the recording equipment, shaking it and rapping on the lenses.

"What _is_ that?" asked Coffin' Henry, somewhat bewildered.

Bill ignores him, actually turns away so he wouldn't have to look at him. Then he restarts his commentary,

"See how the simple yet noble _Streetus Nuisancis_ are intrigued by anything they don't know, perhaps checking to see if it divu-"

"'Ere, I said, what _is _that!?"

"-lges food or water. And, furthermore, notice how Ron keeps back, allowing othe-"

"Hello! I asked what that _thing _is!"

"-rs to take risks for him in the way of a _natural_ leader."

Foul Ole Ron meanwhile, seems more interested in the bridge sidings than anything else. He is poking them, distrustfully, muttering "I told 'em" under his breath. He is accompanied by the dog, who appears to be whining or barking very quietly; one cannot quite hear it, and the Duck Man, who had decided to act like Bill Offler wasn't there. He is paying very close attention to the dog.

"Err, anyway, look at how he _thrives _in the face of adversity! Even though he is living in the epitome of squalor, he still acts happy, as if-"

"What are you calling squalor!?" demanded the Coffin' Henry

"-as _if _he doesn't even notice it"

The Duck Man, leaving his debate with the dog, stands up and said "Gaspode thinks it's time we went out for Mr de Worde."

The camera view cuts, once again, to Sator Square, where Foul Ole Ron, and his dog, are selling copies of _the Ankh-Morpork Times_ newspaper.

"Notice how these noble creatures, though superior to normal humans, still retain vestiges of their hunter-gatherer, farmer and business origins; Foul Ole Ron is expertly manipulating the crowd with his cries-"

Cries that sounded suspiciously like "Bugrem!"

"-while Arnold Sideways is farming the second-hand clothing stalls with expertise-"

Presumably he was after old boots.

"-and Coffin' Henry is hunting for and gathering from those who appear to have money, and due to his brilliant handling they are giving him it without argument! Amazing, lets listen to how he does it..."

"If you don't , haaaruk-pah, give me a dollar, I'll..." he sneezes loudly all over his victims, "...keep following you!"

Surprisingly enough, they paid up.

"Well, I've just been told that that's all we've got time for today, so, over to you, Basil!"

The view flicks to one of Basil. His shirt is half undone and a giggle comes from beneath his desk.

"Er, thankyou, Bill, although you did have another twenty-five minutes, still, it'll be just another of these technical hitches, I suppose. Ah, yes, regarding that, I've been informed that for tomorrow's documentary we will have a whole new film crew and brand new equipment, so hopefully that will proceed without hitches. Now, onto an advert break..."

a/n, I'm not doing adverts. My beta is. I apologize.

The scene shifts onto Sergeant Colon, sitting alone at a bar with a tankard of some alcoholic substance before him. He obviously has not drank it yet, since he is still upright and still able to talk.

"Yes, well, before we had this miracle, life was quite a different matter for Nobby. You should've seen his face every Friday night after work."

Image cuts to Nobby Nobbs walking... no... stroll- _journeying _(on two feet) down the streets of Ankh Morpork. He nods his head to a scantily clad seamstress leaning against a wall. She sneers and disappears down an alleyway with a member of the thieves guild.

The pain is visible on Nobby's face. He enters a bar, and is jeered.

Scene cuts to Nobby at a different bar, a tankard of ale in front of him that is larger than his head.

"God, what was I thinking, walking around with that pathetic bow? No woman looked at me twice -come to think of it I don't think any of 'em saw me in the first place- and no one took me seriously."

Scenes of Nobby being shoved at a poker table. He shows his bow and watchman's badge, but they laugh and point.

(Nobby voiceover) "And then I was introduced to a new friend. A friend who stood up for me, who always listened, and never criticised my appearance. A friend who was always there..."

Back to Nobby at the bar. He raises above his head what can only be called in loose terms, a crossbow.

"Say hello to the Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90003!"

The crossbow gleams. The crossbow bolt sparkles.

Back to Nobby at the bar: "My life's priorities changed. I learned to appreciate life, appreciate the things around me. The Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90003 changed my life, no doubt about that..."

Scenes of people jostling Nobby. He raises the Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90003 to the level of their face, which reminds them that it might not be there anymore if he should press this little lever right about here.

Scene cuts back to Sergeant Colon

"Nobby was just a new ma-... um, a new... pers-... He was a new individual after that. The Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90003 gave him a confidence that alcohol never could."

We watch Nobby and Colon stroll out of the tavern, just as the earlier seamstress is being robbed by an unlicensed thief. Nobby raises the Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90003 and the thief shrieks, drops the amusingly shaped purse and runs, screaming like a woman.

(Voice over): "The Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90003! So much better than the Burleigh and Stronginthearm Dungeon-Dimension-Devastator 90002!!!"


End file.
